stream, shouldn't it be just as hot?"
"You'll see in a minute, happens every fifteen minutes," Sansa pointed to some pipes hanging from the ceilings. Suddenly each pipe spat out a stream of ice-cold water which hit the hot water in the pool causing it to cool rapidly and more steam to form, "Cold water being returned to the source, it's all part of the system that heats Winterfell."
They all noticed the look in Sarella's eyes, Tyene sighed, "No little sister you cannot tear apart the walls to figure out how it works."
Sarella fumed, "But, I've never seen such a thing, nothing I've ever read has even hypothesized such a possibility."
"We have books," Sansa mentioned, "like seven maester's journals and some old tomes written in runes, only father and the boys can read those though."
"Only Robb and Jon," Arya amended, "Father hasn't tried teaching the rest of us runes since Sansa had trouble with them."
Nymeria had been bristling at Sansa's wording, thinking Lord Stark was refusing to teach his daughters something the boys were learning, but calmed at Arya's explanation, "Is it difficult to learn?"
"Not extremely, I can write my name in runes, and the names of my siblings," Sansa explained, "but trying to understand a complete sentence is quite a bit harder. Take Arya's name, if you place the rune for her name next to the rune for Stark, it could mean loud wolf, or knife out of the dark depending on if placed horizontal or vertical."
Mya frowned, "Does that mean the runes for Eddard Stark can mean quiet wolf?"
"No," Sansa smirked, "the runes for father's name can only be written vertically, so the rune that represents Stark, holds the meaning out of the dark. The closest rune to match with father's given name means observant one. Put together the runes mean something like observer out of the darkness, though that's probably more literal than the actual translation."
Sarella moved next to Sansa, "What conventions regulate words to being written horizontally or vertically?"
Sansa frowned, "That was one of the parts I had trouble with, it has something to do with how the words are spoken in the Old Tongue. Father can translate runes into common, but like most people, he doesn't speak the Old Tongue."
Meera Reed spoke from where she sat next to one of the columns, "Father can speak it, he says Lord Stark knows the language but doesn't speak it for the simple fact it shames other northern lords that they have lost that part of their culture. He has probably taught Lord Robb."
Margaery smirked, "He has," the others all turned to her, "what, I asked, and my betrothed and I have no secrets. It is quite refreshing. He's also taught me a bit; we plan to say our vows before the heart tree using the Old Tongue."
Arianne smirked, "I am surprised how enamored you are with your betrothed, the boys you have toyed with in the south have never made you swoon so."
"Toyed with?" Sansa questioned.
Margaery grimaced, "I have never laid with a man, Lady Sansa, but I have done a bit more than chaste kissing. My brothers always stepped in to protect my honor, and Loras was never far. Your brother is aware of all this, as I said there are no secrets between us, like I know while he has been to the alehouse in Winter Town, he has never actually lain with one of the working girls there."
"We know all about Robb, Theon, and Jon going to the alehouse," Jeyne Poole said from where she sat on the ledge beside Sansa, "Roslyn informs Lady Stark whenever they go down there. It's how we knew Theon was soaking himself the night before the King arrived."
"Your mother has a spy in an alehouse?" Obara frowned, "Why?"
Sending an exasperated look to her friend, Sansa sighed, "It started as one of her plans to convince our father to send Jon away. Septa suggested father would see reason if Jon proved to be a degenerate. Yet all it proved was Jon was the most honorable of the three. He only drank a couple of cups of watered-down ale and made sure Theon and Robb didn't do anything stupid. Robb would drink a little too much and flirt with the women there. Theon would get plastered most nights, and Roslyn would be sure to see to him personally so the other girls didn't find out he couldn't perform while intoxicated and do something like laugh at him. She's warned he has a temper."
Back with the boys, Aegon watched his brother interact with those he'd been raised believing were his brothers. Jon was mindful of Bran and Rickon going into the deeper section of the water, more so than Robb was. Robb was busy trying to bolster his image with the others. Aegon could see why this place was a sort of bonding ritual for the young lords of the north, though most of them had kept their small clothes on, not much was hidden. The Martell brothers were the least self-conscious of them, and Aegon had the benefit of being raised mostly ignorant of his origins, Connington and Ashara only told him the truth around two years ago, once they were sure he'd be able to keep his secret, he'd often bathed with other small folk kids in the shallows of whatever port they'd docked at.
He looked to Gendry, the outcast of their group, he'd have to speak with Robert about legitimizing his cousins. What he knew of the state of House Baratheon, Stannis had only a daughter, one looked down upon due to her scars from a bout of Greyscale. Aegon grimaced at the memory, it had been Connington who arranged for the tainted doll to be delivered to Dragonstone. Similar tainted toys were sent to King's Landing but Ashara had become aware and concerned the disease would spread to the small folk who had interceded, she hadn't been aware Shireen was also been targeted. Beyond Shireen, and Robert's two base-born children present in Winterfell, Aegon only knows of Edric Storm who was being raised at Storm's End.
"Aegon," he looked to see Jon moving to sit next to him, "what are you brooding about?"
"I am not brooding," Aegon smirked, "though I am thinking heavily about our mutual cousins and the state of their house. All things considered; you are the rightful lord of Dragonstone."
Jon frowned, "Meaning pushing back the line of Baratheon, putting Stannis as the lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. With you desiring to keep Robert on the throne until you are ready for it fully."
"Not just me," Aegon sighed, "the realm does not have fond memories of our House. Grandfather was a horrible man, he committed heinous acts, the least of which were the murders of your maternal grandfather and uncle. Father was a little better. I understand why you continue to see Lord Stark as your father, I might have seen Ser Jon Connington in similar light at one point, but I've come to realize his motivations did not come from a place of love for me, but an unrequited affection he held for father, I was simply a place holder for a ghost. Then there is the matter of father and your mother, most of the realm believe she was kidnapped and abused."
"I've already said," Jon grimaced, "we will exonerate father of those deeds when it is publicly acknowledged that I'm a Targaryen and not a Snow. We have both your uncles who can corroborate this along with Lady Ashara and my father, or uncle."
Aegon chuckled, "You know, I can almost imagine it, you, Edric, and me growing up in the Red Keep together. Mother, Lady Lyanna, and Lady Ashara fuss over Rhaenys as she tells them of her first crush. Lord Stark would probably be father's hand or Master of Laws and still handing us our collective rears in the sparing ring. Father would be a great king and would beam with pride at each of our accomplishments."
"I'm sure he'd be proud of us, wherever he's looking at us from, just as our mothers are," Jon patted his brother's shoulder, "though, why am I always reassuring my older brothers?"
A smirk spread on Aegon's face, "Because you're naturally skilled at being the better sibling."
(North – Winterfell)
It was well past the hour of the wolf when Oberyn entered the godwoods, Lord Stark had warned him about doing this alone, so he'd sought out two individuals. The first had been Howland Reed, the man had agreed easily upon learning what Oberyn was planning to do exactly and had conscripted his son Jojen to accompany them. Along with the two Reeds, Oberyn sought out Jory Cassel, the captain of the Winterfell guard and son of Martyn who was among those whose deaths weighed upon Oberyn's conscience.
Jory lit a few torches around the heart tree, "You are sure about this?"
"Do you know another way to commune with the dead?" Oberyn grimaced.
"No, but the paste is a potent thing," Jory frowned, "I was present when Lord Stark used it. He is at least of the blood of the First Men and has greensight in his lineage."
Howland took a seat on a root assisted by his son, "The Martells have mixed with the Stoney Dornish, they are of the blood, if only slightly." The small man sighed, "Though Cassel is right, I do not know if your lineage carries the gift of greensight."
"Lord Stark implied that it will still work," Oberyn confirmed.
"It will, but it is not clear how much meaning you will be able to derive from the visions supplied. You may not be given the vision you desire, especially without the greensight."
"I can help," Jojen claimed, "I can guide him."
Howland looked to his son, "You are skilled, but not that skilled my son. You have said your visions have yet to become clear since whatever upheaval had obscured the future you had seen."
Jojen's brows knitted together, "Future is always harder to see, but the past is far easier."
"Yet it is not the past or the future I seek," Oberyn crossed his arms, "I seek to speak with those who no longer walk the paths of this life."
"That makes it even easier," Jojen bowed his head, "I have seen my death before, or at least the death I was supposed to have. I was to be mortally wounded by wights guiding someone to a place beyond the Wall. That future is now gone, and I know not my destiny, but I remember the feeling of the place that came after."
Howland grimaced, never liking the mention of his son's brush with mortality. He looked to a depression at the base of the heart tree flanked by large roots, "There, sit and center yourself Prince Oberyn. We will finish preparing the paste."
"I thought it was already done?" Oberyn frowned.
"For Lord Stark, it is ready, as for you," Howland looked the Dornishman up and down, "You may want your first taste to be watered down. The experience can be a bit overwhelming."
Oberyn laughed, "I am no child my friend, I can handle anything."
Howland sighed, "So be it," He picked up the bowl as Oberyn sat, "We will start with a single spoonful, you might feel the effect immediately or it may take a few moments. Once the effects start, Jojen will work to guide you. If you feel the effects begin to wane and have yet to accomplish your goals, tell him and I will give you another spoon of the paste. Be swift in your dealings, none but a true greenseer can handle three doses in a single sitting."
With a nod, Oberyn took the offered spoon of paste and ingested it, "Gah, that tasted foul." Looking at the lord of the Neck, he blinked realizing that the man had vanished. Jory had also vanished, only Jojen remained, sitting upon the root next to him. "What, where are your father and Jory?"
This Jojen tilted his head awkwardly, "They are still in the godswoods."
Standing up Oberyn looked around, "I did not think the afterlife would look so much like Winterfell. Are we not supposed to be in some grand halls where the dead feast with the Old Gods?"
"This is but the first step in your journey," Jojen grimaced, "and you will not find what you seek in the halls of the dead. That is a place for those who have accepted their fates. Those who have recognized their mistakes, their faults, and their regrets and have set all those aside."
"Oberyn!" a voice the prince had not heard in one and a half decades called out. Turning he saw the ghastly image of Arthur Dayne standing before him, "you betrayed us." Blood coated the front of Arthur's breastplate gushing from a hole in his abdomen and the line across his throat. "You led Eddard Stark and his men to us, to your king."
Oberyn grimaced, "The boy was not my king Arthur, Aegon lives." He bowed his head, "Yet, it was I who led Lord Stark to the tower. I was to be there, to broker peace between you my friend, and Lord Stark, I knew your Dornish blood would be too hot to see past your anger over Stark setting your sister aside for the Tully woman."
"Is that what you tell yourself, my prince, to help you sleep at night? The truth is you are a prideful and spiteful serpent, you led Lord Stark so that he would know your pain. The loss of a beloved sister, to have his last memory of her be a nightmare of blood and screams."
"That is enough Arthur," from behind the tree Rhaegar emerged, "do not let your rage consume you once more."
Oberyn frowned, "Prince Rhaegar?"
"It has been a while good brother," Rhaegar indicated the bloody mess that remained of his torso where Robert's hammer had caved it in, "Why do you tarry here, among the restless dead? We do not make for good company."
"I come seeking forgiveness, and understanding, I come to confront the actions of my past." Oberyn noticed several wraiths begin to take form among the shadows of the sentinel trees. It was the smallest figure and the one that she clutched to that nearly brought him to his knees, "Elia? Rhaenys?"
Elia was clothed in tattered and ripped garments, blood and gore covered her, while Rhaenys was soaked in blood with so many stab wounds it was impossible to count. His sister and niece drifted closer, Rhaenys only releasing her mother to dash to Rhaegar who lifted the gory mess of a child to his hip. As he looked around, he could put names to the various faces taking shape, those who fell at the Tower of Joy, even Aerys, Rhaella, and Viserys moved to stand near Rhaegar and his family. Yet, there was one person absent from the gathering, "Where is Lyanna?"
"Not among us," Oswell spoke, "in her final moments, Lord Stark comforted her, and absolved her of fault for the war and deaths that ensued. She sits with her father and brother in the great hall, awaiting us all to join them."
Aerys free of the madness he had in life glowered, "She often goes to the crypts, there to watch over her son and hear the prayers of her living kin. We are but wraiths unable to leave until we either forgive or are forgiven." Rhaella touched his arm in a show of support, "not that I will ever know such peace."
Oberyn shook his head, "I may very well join you one day, but I rather not linger here too long. For those I have failed, I am deeply sorry."
Martyn Cassel stepped forward, "It is not you who holds us to this place Prince Oberyn, it was only in death we learned you were behind the missive that led us to the tower. For those of us who battled in the shadow of that auspiciously named tower, it is our regrets that hold us. My countrymen and I failed our liege lord. We fell in battle before knights of the seven and failed in our vow to bring Lady Lyanna home safely.
Gerold Hightower stepped forward, "As for we three of the king's guard, we failed in our vows as well, but not our oaths to our king and prince," Aerys and Viserys both glared at that, "in our oaths as knights. We were in the wrong that day, we stood before men more worthy of our cloaks. We allowed convinced ourselves we were doing what was right and just, protecting whom we believed to be the true king. We had no knowledge that Aegon had survived, had I permitted Arthur to speak with his sister, we would have known Lord Stark was a man of honor. Yet we allowed Arthur's anger to blind us, and our bones now rest beneath the sands of Dorne."
Oberyn sighed, "Yet if I had been there."
"Had you been there, would the outcome have truly changed?" Ethan Glover spoke up from where he stood with the other northerners, he was the youngest of them, "How would one person have stopped ten from drawing steel and putting those they saw as enemies to death? We went there to retrieve our liege's sister from men who in our eyes had been holding her prisoner and permitting Rhaegar to assault her. They saw us as little more than heathen barbarians in service to a man they saw as a usurper."
"I could have made you all see reason; I could have kept whatever made you draw steel against one other from happening. I would have been there to see Lyanna safely deliver her child and you would not have failed in returning her to the north alive and well." Oberyn bowed his head.
Arthur stepped forward and placed a hand on Oberyn's shoulder, "No," when Oberyn looked at him his countryman shook his head resolutely, "you could not have. Had Lyanna survived, she'd have been forced to wed Baratheon, she would never be free to return to the North for good. It was her death that made Baratheon take pause when he realized Jon's true parentage. The boy was the last piece of the woman he loved, all that remained of her in the living world."
Jojen spoke up from his place on the root of the tree, "Prince Oberyn, our time is almost up."
Oberyn turned to the boy, "Have your father give me a second dose of the paste."
"He already has, another dose would be your third," Jojen frowned, "We can try again tomorrow night after your mind and body have time to recover."
He was surprised to know he'd been given another dose without realizing it, "Aye, then we should return to the waking world."
Rhaegar paused him, "Before you go, pass on my gratitude to my other good brothers, tell Eddard that I wish we'd had the chance to meet in another place than a battlefield where we fought on opposite sides. Tell Doran that his loyalty and trust were the greatest of honors. Tell my sons I am proud of them and pass my love to my sister."
"Aye," Martyn spoke up, "tell Jory I'm proud of the man he's become, but he needs to find himself a wife. I'll be disappointed if the line of Cassel ends with him."
Oberyn blinks and he finds himself still sitting in the depression between the roots of the heart tree. Jojen still sitting on the large root beside him. Before him, Jory kneels with a wineskin, "Lord Stark said his mouth was foul tasting after his visions."
"Understated," Oberyn grabbed the wineskin and rinsed his mouth before taking a second drink. He frowned at the taste, "Dornish Red? It thought it was banned within the walls of Winterfell."
Jory snorted, "Hear that from the gossip down at the alehouse? The steward always clears space in the cellars after the harvest feast for the excess we store in case of winter."
"That is far more logical than Lord Stark banning such a wonderful drink over a lost love," Oberyn smirked, "though the gossip tale would make for a much better bards song."
"So, brother, how was your vision quest," Oberyn jumped looking to see Doran sitting on the root opposite Jojen next to Howland. Looking around he found Eddard, Ashara, Aegon, and Jon also present though the latter four stood. Eddard wore his family's ancestral great sword across his back, and Aegon and Jon both wore castle-forged steel longswords at their waists. Doran chuckled, "Ellaria informed me you had not returned to your quarters last evening."
"What?" Oberyn finally noticed the sky was no longer covered in stars, but the blue and pink hues of early morning, "I could swear I was only there for a few minutes."
Eddard sighed, "It is a strange thing these visions. Mine felt like days as I followed my dire wolf through the lands beyond the Wall, all the way to the clearing I found her in. Yet, Jory told me I had been under for only a few moments before rising and making my way to the stables. By the time he figured out what was happening, I was already riding out the gate and he could not catch up."
"He was like a man possessed, only he knew where he was going," Jory said, "I tried to ride after him, but lost his trail when he left the normal paths through the wolf's wood."
Howland spoke up, "What of your vision Prince Oberyn? What have you learned?"
"Much my friend, much indeed," Oberyn looked between Howland and Eddard, "They do not hold anger towards either of you or me. The battle at that tower was bound to happen, too much anger and too many hot tempers. I saw the eight of them, the combatants. As well as my sister, niece, and Prince Rhaegar." He focused on Eddard, "Lyanna was not among them."
Eddard frowned, "What do you mean?"
"I didn't go to the great halls of the dead. The place I was looked like these godswoods, this very heart tree. The people there were the unsettled dead. They have regrets and grievances which prevent them from reaching the great halls. You saved Lyanna from that fate Lord Stark; in her final moments, you gave her peace. She is with your father and brother dining at the tables of the gods."
Doran grimaced, "You said Elia and Rhaenys were there?"
"Aye, but Elia did not speak," Oberyn frowned, "I do not know what could be holding poor little Rhaenys to such a place, but Aerys, Rhaella, and Viserys were there as well. Aerys mentioned something about being forgiven for their deeds in life. Yet what could Rhaenys need to be forgiven for."
"Not forgiven," Eddard looked to Aegon and Jon, "she needs justice. Amory Lorch escaped from the Shadow Tower the night before he was to swear his oath. The oath would have absolved him of his crimes and granted the princess justice. I have received word he was sighted near Deepwood Motte. I was going to send the boys out to hunt him down and bring him here, I'd normally go myself, but with the number of guests present."
Oberyn stood, "I think I've had enough visions for now. Lorch may be many things, but he is an experienced swordsman. I will accompany the lads. If nothing else to see they don't do anything stupid." The prince smirked, "Oh, and one other thing," Oberyn looked to Jory, "Your father may rest easier if you got a wife and fathered a couple of sons."
Jory looked confused but glowered at Aegon, Jon, and Jojen as they tried to conceal their laughter.
